19410111 11:48:47
OX-N-5950
The sound of strenuous grunting coming from the next room caused Cicero to nervously writhe and rock in her chair as she politely waited for LaGrange to finish lighting her cigarette. Knowing the origin of the noises didn't help her discomfort, and she understood that the arrangement was as good as it could be for her to keep a watch over her brother without having to directly monitor him every waking moment, but hearing nothing but those primal grunts echo in their room still made her uncomfortable.
"Has your sleep improved any since last week?" As usual, LaGrange's method of exchanging pleasantries with someone who she considered familiar came without the common opening banter.
"What? Oh, uh, a little, yeah. Even though we know what the business is, some things can still manage to be a surprise."
"So true. So listen, I have a plan that I want you to think about here. I'm sorry that this may seem rude and direct but you know how things move now, and you know they're making their plans now too."
"OK. What do you have in mind?"
Here, LaGrange wanted to take a moment to build up to the proposal, as to ensure that the justification would make Cicero inclined to see the inarguable logic behind it.
"I think you should take a long look at yourself, and who you are, and what you have done for your family and this city. I mean, what other woman do you know of that has the weapon you do, and the training to go with it? What other woman goes out and maintains contacts like me and others for the sake of your trade? You stand here today not broken or distraught, but ready to work. You know this business. You've been in this business. You've done the work. So the big question is - who's going to run the show now?"
"... are you trying to say that it should be me?" Cicero's response did carry earnest surprise, and the discomfort from before the conversation now extended to her hearing LaGrange speak of her weapon training and use in the open. It wasn't something that she wanted to have discussed so freely. Moreover, she didn't appreciate having this kind of decision be thrust upon her, despite any kind of feeling she had before in which she envisioned herself being the actual boss. But she understood that was all it was in her head - a fantasy. "It, it wouldn't work. If they tried to install me, most all of the men would flat out reject it."
"Sure the men would reject it - at first. That's when you do what you know needs to be done and straighten the kinks out, and get the ship back on track. Besides, you got the women on your side basically already. You know I'd support you any way that I can, and that's nothing small, if I say so myself. And I know others I can ask to join you right off. Y'know that showtunes girl that's all over the rags now, Helen Allgera? I've heard things about her. I might be able to get her to help us out, directly. I know other people. I got my brother over there, and you know he won't tolerate disrespect of anyone to me."
"Right, you're right there."
"And I ask again - who else are they going to ask? His son is still too young and might not be respected all the same. And your brother? He's out of the game... not in it like you are. You really are the best choice for it out of your family. It is you."
LaGrange's words stirred deeply into her heart. It was all true. If this legacy were to continue, it really did seem best for it to be done under her hands after all. Nobody else was ready.
"I think you might be right." Cicero said this with a nod after further silent contemplation.
"Yeah, you think about it, darlin." LaGrange smiled warmly in response. Everything she wanted now seemed to be falling into place. With a drag of her cigarette, she envisioned her new position of authority and how she and her brother could finally have the weapons to wield it.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
19290115 21:20:43
19290115 21:20:43
FQ-S-4344
"Hi. Tell your friend that we're here to collect."
"Uh, sure, hold on."
Pulaski nodded politely and stepped back from the door to wait. Kedzie remained at his right and continued to stare into the corner of the house where the doorway met the protruding bay window, and stood at an angle to help keep himself concealed to the visibilty from the sidewalk out in front. The effort wasn't particularly necessary, as it was dark and cold, with nobody walking near and only a few cars infrequently driving past. They both heard a multitude of hurried footsteps rumble from within the house while they waited.
"Hm. Think that's a welcoming party for us?" Pulaski asked this with a hint of amusement.
"Would they be that stupid? They made no attempt to keep quiet."
"Eh, I wouldn't put it past these guys."
"Maybe it's different now that there's two of us here."
Pulaski silently nodded in agreement, then resumed studying the outside porch in boredom while they awaited a response. There were visible flakes of white paint that were peeled away from the window frames and were ready to fall off with the touch of a finger. The flag hostler that was hammered in at the side of the doorway shown an accumulation of rust around the nails which held it in place. A spider sat in the center of a web which was strung between the outer wall and the light fixture which hung over the side of the door. After a few minutes, the door finally cracked open again with the same person at the other end who had addressed them earlier.
"Uh he say that he only got twenty now, and that if you want it all you should come back after this Friday. Othawise I got the twenty for you."
Kedzie grinned after hearing this. Now he understood.
"OK, pal, look. That ain't a good answer. Now, we're comin in, whether you let us or not, so can we be gentlemen about this?" Pulaski let his right hand fall to his side and hover over the scabbard as he waited for an answer.
"Uh OK, all right."
The man walked away and went up one stair on the stairway immediately to the entrance's right to allow them in. The smell of growing marijuana plants struck them immediately as they entered the house, which caused Kedzie to cough with surprise a few times. Pulaski looked to his left and saw an undecorated and unfurnished room set a stark contrast to the kitchen table in the center of it, upon which a large pile of green leaves rested at one end and several white rolled joints sat next to it. He then proceeded to the kitchen, still having his hand hover over his right side.
"Greg!" Albert greeted him from the kitchen with a tone of congeniality. He remained seated at a table where a steaming pot of coffee sat upon a trivet, as well as a few beer bottles. Albert had one of them opened and next to him. "You didn't have to come in, didn't my friend tell you? You could have just taken that twenty now and come back later."
"Al, this is three weeks that you haven't paid full. I can see that you're still doing fine out there, so quit shitting me. You're already juiced out. I'm not being unreasonable, here."
Albert tapped his beer bottle upon the surface of the table three times, with enough force to make the tone echo beyond the small kitchen walls. Immediately after that, Kedzie heard the sound of carefully treaded footsteps approach from behind them both. He grinned again. They really were that stupid.
"Naw, see, I don't think you are so much, but I don't think you listenin to me. So if this is all you gonna do, you can just get the fuck outta my house and come back when you ready."
"And what if we don't?" Pulaski asked this without yet hearing the people approaching from behind.
Kedzie immediately kicked a leg backward and felt it make contact with a body behind him. He then turned around and swung a fist behind Pulaski's head and struck the man who was approaching behind him. The strike caused Pulaski to spin around, which gave Albert the opportunity to quickly stand up and grab the pot of coffee on the table and thrust the contents of it forward to land upon Pulaski's back and neck. Kedzie kept his focus on the two men and curled a hand around the necks of each of them and forcefully smashed their faces into each other. One man let something drop to the ground after the third strike, and another let something go after the fifth. Pulaski growled in pain and turned in time to see a beer bottle thrown at him by Albert, which glanced off of his torso and landed on the floor without breaking. Pulaski snapped his sword into action and grasped it with both hands, and held it at the ready to attack Albert. Before he could step forward to do so, though, Kedzie let one of the two men in his hands drop to the ground and used both hands to grapple the other man, then threw his body into the air past Pulaski and watched him land on the kitchen floor, then slide into the kitchen table and knock it over before it collided into Albert's legs. Kedzie deftly knelt down to pick up the fallen beer bottle while closing in on Albert, then smashed the glass bottle onto his forehead. Before the shards of glass hit the ground, Kezdie wrapped his hands around Albert's face and thrust it forward while raising his knee into the air. He kept his grasp of Albert's face while walking behind him before smashing his brow into the edge of the kitchen counter.
Albert was released and dropped limply to the ground. Kedzie reached into his pants pocket and found a wallet with more than ten twenty dollar bills inside. Kedzie took five of them and casually threw the wallet back to the ground.
FQ-S-4344
"Hi. Tell your friend that we're here to collect."
"Uh, sure, hold on."
Pulaski nodded politely and stepped back from the door to wait. Kedzie remained at his right and continued to stare into the corner of the house where the doorway met the protruding bay window, and stood at an angle to help keep himself concealed to the visibilty from the sidewalk out in front. The effort wasn't particularly necessary, as it was dark and cold, with nobody walking near and only a few cars infrequently driving past. They both heard a multitude of hurried footsteps rumble from within the house while they waited.
"Hm. Think that's a welcoming party for us?" Pulaski asked this with a hint of amusement.
"Would they be that stupid? They made no attempt to keep quiet."
"Eh, I wouldn't put it past these guys."
"Maybe it's different now that there's two of us here."
Pulaski silently nodded in agreement, then resumed studying the outside porch in boredom while they awaited a response. There were visible flakes of white paint that were peeled away from the window frames and were ready to fall off with the touch of a finger. The flag hostler that was hammered in at the side of the doorway shown an accumulation of rust around the nails which held it in place. A spider sat in the center of a web which was strung between the outer wall and the light fixture which hung over the side of the door. After a few minutes, the door finally cracked open again with the same person at the other end who had addressed them earlier.
"Uh he say that he only got twenty now, and that if you want it all you should come back after this Friday. Othawise I got the twenty for you."
Kedzie grinned after hearing this. Now he understood.
"OK, pal, look. That ain't a good answer. Now, we're comin in, whether you let us or not, so can we be gentlemen about this?" Pulaski let his right hand fall to his side and hover over the scabbard as he waited for an answer.
"Uh OK, all right."
The man walked away and went up one stair on the stairway immediately to the entrance's right to allow them in. The smell of growing marijuana plants struck them immediately as they entered the house, which caused Kedzie to cough with surprise a few times. Pulaski looked to his left and saw an undecorated and unfurnished room set a stark contrast to the kitchen table in the center of it, upon which a large pile of green leaves rested at one end and several white rolled joints sat next to it. He then proceeded to the kitchen, still having his hand hover over his right side.
"Greg!" Albert greeted him from the kitchen with a tone of congeniality. He remained seated at a table where a steaming pot of coffee sat upon a trivet, as well as a few beer bottles. Albert had one of them opened and next to him. "You didn't have to come in, didn't my friend tell you? You could have just taken that twenty now and come back later."
"Al, this is three weeks that you haven't paid full. I can see that you're still doing fine out there, so quit shitting me. You're already juiced out. I'm not being unreasonable, here."
Albert tapped his beer bottle upon the surface of the table three times, with enough force to make the tone echo beyond the small kitchen walls. Immediately after that, Kedzie heard the sound of carefully treaded footsteps approach from behind them both. He grinned again. They really were that stupid.
"Naw, see, I don't think you are so much, but I don't think you listenin to me. So if this is all you gonna do, you can just get the fuck outta my house and come back when you ready."
"And what if we don't?" Pulaski asked this without yet hearing the people approaching from behind.
Kedzie immediately kicked a leg backward and felt it make contact with a body behind him. He then turned around and swung a fist behind Pulaski's head and struck the man who was approaching behind him. The strike caused Pulaski to spin around, which gave Albert the opportunity to quickly stand up and grab the pot of coffee on the table and thrust the contents of it forward to land upon Pulaski's back and neck. Kedzie kept his focus on the two men and curled a hand around the necks of each of them and forcefully smashed their faces into each other. One man let something drop to the ground after the third strike, and another let something go after the fifth. Pulaski growled in pain and turned in time to see a beer bottle thrown at him by Albert, which glanced off of his torso and landed on the floor without breaking. Pulaski snapped his sword into action and grasped it with both hands, and held it at the ready to attack Albert. Before he could step forward to do so, though, Kedzie let one of the two men in his hands drop to the ground and used both hands to grapple the other man, then threw his body into the air past Pulaski and watched him land on the kitchen floor, then slide into the kitchen table and knock it over before it collided into Albert's legs. Kedzie deftly knelt down to pick up the fallen beer bottle while closing in on Albert, then smashed the glass bottle onto his forehead. Before the shards of glass hit the ground, Kezdie wrapped his hands around Albert's face and thrust it forward while raising his knee into the air. He kept his grasp of Albert's face while walking behind him before smashing his brow into the edge of the kitchen counter.
Albert was released and dropped limply to the ground. Kedzie reached into his pants pocket and found a wallet with more than ten twenty dollar bills inside. Kedzie took five of them and casually threw the wallet back to the ground.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
18940912 15:59:20
18940912 15:59:20
MK-S-4798
Richard kept his nose pointed slightly downwards to the table so that he didn't allow the direct light of the candle flame to blind his vision. All the while, he attentively held the crayon so its end would balance between the flame and twirled it between his fingers so that he could keep the bubble of melted wax collected.
"Don't let too much melt. Be patient and do it in small parts every time." Melissa kept her focus attentively upon her son throughout this exercise.
"Okay, momma. I know."
Despite saying as much, Richard continued to hold the crayon in the flame, and delighted to watch the solid become liquid before his eyes. He loved the smell of melted wax which now filled the dining room. When he heard his father begin to walk up, he finally removed the crayon and dabbed it onto the paper. Without checking to see how the paper absorbed the brown wax, he dashed away from his chair and rushed to greet him.
"Dad! You should see it, Mom's showing me how to draw mountains that really look like they are rocks, it's amazing!"
"Ha ha, is that so? Let me see."
Carbondale walked over to the table in Richard's wake and looked over his son's shoulder to see his work in progress. The child pointed to the space of white paper which had a brown boundary and one circular dab of the same color within it.
"This is gonna be the mountain, see? I'm drawing the Rocky Mountains. I gotta do it for school. It's really fun!"
"The Rockies, eh? Looking good." Carbondale gave his praise in a lazy voice while feeling the surface of the hardened dot of wax on the paper. He pinched his fingers afterward and felt how the residual wax changed their texture.
"It does look wonderful. I wanna go there some day. I wanna see mountains in person. It would be so much better than how it is here. How it's all flat here."
"Oh, Richard. Heh, if my Dad were to hear you say those things-"
"Oh don't you start about that." Melissa said this with a smirk. Carbondale didn't check her physical bearing nor pay attention to the command itself, but rather felt more compelled to say something after having her give that half hearted warning.
"Richard, listen. You'll go places, sure. You'll be able to go lots of places in this world. And when you do, you'll see that what we got here is pretty good too. Trust me on this. When I was your age.. when I was a baby, see, us folks going to the Rockies at that time woulda been bad. The States said that we weren't citizens. My Dad... Granpda, he'd remind me about this all the time. He never let that go. I doubt he's the only one who still hangs on. So if you wanna see mountains, we can see mountains some day, sure. But there's more mountains than the Rockies, right?"
"Um, OK Dad. I hope we go see mountains soon."
"Hm, maybe we will."
MK-S-4798
Richard kept his nose pointed slightly downwards to the table so that he didn't allow the direct light of the candle flame to blind his vision. All the while, he attentively held the crayon so its end would balance between the flame and twirled it between his fingers so that he could keep the bubble of melted wax collected.
"Don't let too much melt. Be patient and do it in small parts every time." Melissa kept her focus attentively upon her son throughout this exercise.
"Okay, momma. I know."
Despite saying as much, Richard continued to hold the crayon in the flame, and delighted to watch the solid become liquid before his eyes. He loved the smell of melted wax which now filled the dining room. When he heard his father begin to walk up, he finally removed the crayon and dabbed it onto the paper. Without checking to see how the paper absorbed the brown wax, he dashed away from his chair and rushed to greet him.
"Dad! You should see it, Mom's showing me how to draw mountains that really look like they are rocks, it's amazing!"
"Ha ha, is that so? Let me see."
Carbondale walked over to the table in Richard's wake and looked over his son's shoulder to see his work in progress. The child pointed to the space of white paper which had a brown boundary and one circular dab of the same color within it.
"This is gonna be the mountain, see? I'm drawing the Rocky Mountains. I gotta do it for school. It's really fun!"
"The Rockies, eh? Looking good." Carbondale gave his praise in a lazy voice while feeling the surface of the hardened dot of wax on the paper. He pinched his fingers afterward and felt how the residual wax changed their texture.
"It does look wonderful. I wanna go there some day. I wanna see mountains in person. It would be so much better than how it is here. How it's all flat here."
"Oh, Richard. Heh, if my Dad were to hear you say those things-"
"Oh don't you start about that." Melissa said this with a smirk. Carbondale didn't check her physical bearing nor pay attention to the command itself, but rather felt more compelled to say something after having her give that half hearted warning.
"Richard, listen. You'll go places, sure. You'll be able to go lots of places in this world. And when you do, you'll see that what we got here is pretty good too. Trust me on this. When I was your age.. when I was a baby, see, us folks going to the Rockies at that time woulda been bad. The States said that we weren't citizens. My Dad... Granpda, he'd remind me about this all the time. He never let that go. I doubt he's the only one who still hangs on. So if you wanna see mountains, we can see mountains some day, sure. But there's more mountains than the Rockies, right?"
"Um, OK Dad. I hope we go see mountains soon."
"Hm, maybe we will."
Friday, August 23, 2013
18570505 03:46:11
18570505 03:46:11
The letter, which Daron had left behind on a writing desk in his house, was dated as sent on the First of May and read as follows:
"First delivery shall arrive on the upcoming Fifth. Just after Midnight. Be sure to have a regiment of men ready to a massive portion of earth and clay immediately when we reach you. At least one hundred would all be put to use if you can arrange for it. B."
Daron stood ready at a high platform above the unloading area in anticipation for the arrival, while his team of one hundred fifty men stood in wait below. Some men idly walked about in place, and others leanined upon their shovels, all talking happily in anticipation of the work they were about to receive. Finally, he heard the steady high pitched grind of steel become stronger as the train inched its way towards the destination; within minutes, he saw the light of the lead engine pierce through the darkness and show itself to be a few lengths away from the entrance of the warehouse. It was at this point when one of the men of the team climbed up to stand beside Daron - he was the one who would indicate to the conductor to move forward when the cars were emptied. The two shook hands when they stood side by side.
The train finally came to a point where it was signaled to stop, and the carriage of the first car was pried open to allow the dirt and earth within it to spill onto the now moving conveyor belts. The men who stood ready at this reception area were at one end of a length of a few dozen yards of conveyor belt and used their shovels to guide the material from the rail cars, while at the other end more men stood in wait to receive the dirt from the belt and move it manually to the sides for further collection and distribution. The two men at the top platform watched the dirt drain away from the rail car, at which point the man at Daron's side yelled out, which signaled for the next car to approach for unloading.
After the second rail car was opened for unloading, Daron removed himself from the platform and walked to the outside of the warehouse, where he saw Bureau walking towards him. The two met with hands outstretched and grins as wide as their mouths could stretch. Despite being far removed from all of the activity, the two still had to nearly shout at each other to be heard.
"It's done, old man."
"So it is. I never would have dreamed."
The letter, which Daron had left behind on a writing desk in his house, was dated as sent on the First of May and read as follows:
"First delivery shall arrive on the upcoming Fifth. Just after Midnight. Be sure to have a regiment of men ready to a massive portion of earth and clay immediately when we reach you. At least one hundred would all be put to use if you can arrange for it. B."
Daron stood ready at a high platform above the unloading area in anticipation for the arrival, while his team of one hundred fifty men stood in wait below. Some men idly walked about in place, and others leanined upon their shovels, all talking happily in anticipation of the work they were about to receive. Finally, he heard the steady high pitched grind of steel become stronger as the train inched its way towards the destination; within minutes, he saw the light of the lead engine pierce through the darkness and show itself to be a few lengths away from the entrance of the warehouse. It was at this point when one of the men of the team climbed up to stand beside Daron - he was the one who would indicate to the conductor to move forward when the cars were emptied. The two shook hands when they stood side by side.
The train finally came to a point where it was signaled to stop, and the carriage of the first car was pried open to allow the dirt and earth within it to spill onto the now moving conveyor belts. The men who stood ready at this reception area were at one end of a length of a few dozen yards of conveyor belt and used their shovels to guide the material from the rail cars, while at the other end more men stood in wait to receive the dirt from the belt and move it manually to the sides for further collection and distribution. The two men at the top platform watched the dirt drain away from the rail car, at which point the man at Daron's side yelled out, which signaled for the next car to approach for unloading.
After the second rail car was opened for unloading, Daron removed himself from the platform and walked to the outside of the warehouse, where he saw Bureau walking towards him. The two met with hands outstretched and grins as wide as their mouths could stretch. Despite being far removed from all of the activity, the two still had to nearly shout at each other to be heard.
"It's done, old man."
"So it is. I never would have dreamed."
Thursday, August 22, 2013
18570309 17:22:19
18570309 17:22:19
"What the hell you smilin for? Makes me nervous when you do that and I don't know why." After saying this, Cook pointed to the ash tray where the lit cigar sat. Bureau responded by pulling a fresh cigar out of the front pocket of his suit coat and placing it on the table next to the tray. Cook nodded and used a match from the box on the table to light it.
"Oh, I think we have an opportunity on our hands here. Tell me, what have you heard from the states lately?"
"Uh, what about em? They got their new president, he made that speech jus a few ago. What else is there?"
"Well, here, you can see for yourself here." Bureau said this while pointing directly down upon the newspaper which was folded in front of him on the table. "They just made a decision. A court decision. It came on the sixth, just last Friday. It's called Scott versus Sanford. You know what they said?"
"No? No, I don't."
"You wouldn't believe it. You wouldn't guess in a lifetime. They actually said that you people can't be citizens of a state. They actually said that. The Chief Judge said that."
Cook was stunned into a fixed state of shock enough that the cigar tipped from the edge of his mouth and landed upon the table, then bounced and fell into his lap before he flinched and quickly recovered it from his body before it burned a hole through his clothes. He placed the burning roll at the end of the ashtray after making the recovery.
"Really?"
"Yep."
"No, I mean - really?"
"Yes, really. You can read it here if you want."
"Even if they're free? Even if they paid to be free?"
"Yes and yes. They mean it. All of you can't be citizens. Ever."
"They have got to be the dumbest bunch of shit eaters in the world." It took a long moment for Cook to say this much in response. He felt the blood in his body run cold and shivers overtake his skin as he considered the full implication of that kind of judgment. Less than a feeling of relief that he wasn't affected by the decision was the rage swelling up within him over the institution which would make that kind of decision. How could they live with that verdict? How could any of his fellow brothers tolerate to be there a minute longer now? His mind raced from one question to the next until Bureau spoke again and snapped him out of it.
"So, do you know why I say this is an opportunity?"
"Um, uh... no, I. I can't say I really do, no. You'll have to tell me."
"Watch what's going to happen because of this. All that expansion that they're doing now, out to Kansas and further on. It's already getting strained by how the grain market has been compared to years ago. The banks have been putting out much more credit than they can handle for years. Now with this, nobody's going to be sure which of those places will hold slaves or not. You just watch as all those railroads reaching out west and cities going up there come to a sudden stop."
"Um, yeah. Yeah, you're right." Cook was still heavily distracted by the news and gave a response mostly out of politeness.
"So that means that the banks that have been supporting all of this are going to be hurting soon. Hurting very badly very soon. We've all talked about wanting to make this town bigger. I think this is our chance. I think if we find the right bank to back it with our gold, we can really make this place grow. I think we can expand out into our aquatic limit, much like New York did so long ago."
"Oh. Oh, yeah, that would be ideal, yeah. I can see that now."
"Speak of this to your father, won't you? On the subject of New York, I'll need to make a trip out there to arrange this if it has his approval."
"Um. Sure. Yeah, I'll go do that. OK."
Cook left the saloon without taking his cigar with him. He proceeded to Daron's house with his head filled of visions of going to the states' capital and finding the men who made this judgment so that he could physically retaliate against them. He kept a stoic face while envisioning acts of torture upon those judges.
"What the hell you smilin for? Makes me nervous when you do that and I don't know why." After saying this, Cook pointed to the ash tray where the lit cigar sat. Bureau responded by pulling a fresh cigar out of the front pocket of his suit coat and placing it on the table next to the tray. Cook nodded and used a match from the box on the table to light it.
"Oh, I think we have an opportunity on our hands here. Tell me, what have you heard from the states lately?"
"Uh, what about em? They got their new president, he made that speech jus a few ago. What else is there?"
"Well, here, you can see for yourself here." Bureau said this while pointing directly down upon the newspaper which was folded in front of him on the table. "They just made a decision. A court decision. It came on the sixth, just last Friday. It's called Scott versus Sanford. You know what they said?"
"No? No, I don't."
"You wouldn't believe it. You wouldn't guess in a lifetime. They actually said that you people can't be citizens of a state. They actually said that. The Chief Judge said that."
Cook was stunned into a fixed state of shock enough that the cigar tipped from the edge of his mouth and landed upon the table, then bounced and fell into his lap before he flinched and quickly recovered it from his body before it burned a hole through his clothes. He placed the burning roll at the end of the ashtray after making the recovery.
"Really?"
"Yep."
"No, I mean - really?"
"Yes, really. You can read it here if you want."
"Even if they're free? Even if they paid to be free?"
"Yes and yes. They mean it. All of you can't be citizens. Ever."
"They have got to be the dumbest bunch of shit eaters in the world." It took a long moment for Cook to say this much in response. He felt the blood in his body run cold and shivers overtake his skin as he considered the full implication of that kind of judgment. Less than a feeling of relief that he wasn't affected by the decision was the rage swelling up within him over the institution which would make that kind of decision. How could they live with that verdict? How could any of his fellow brothers tolerate to be there a minute longer now? His mind raced from one question to the next until Bureau spoke again and snapped him out of it.
"So, do you know why I say this is an opportunity?"
"Um, uh... no, I. I can't say I really do, no. You'll have to tell me."
"Watch what's going to happen because of this. All that expansion that they're doing now, out to Kansas and further on. It's already getting strained by how the grain market has been compared to years ago. The banks have been putting out much more credit than they can handle for years. Now with this, nobody's going to be sure which of those places will hold slaves or not. You just watch as all those railroads reaching out west and cities going up there come to a sudden stop."
"Um, yeah. Yeah, you're right." Cook was still heavily distracted by the news and gave a response mostly out of politeness.
"So that means that the banks that have been supporting all of this are going to be hurting soon. Hurting very badly very soon. We've all talked about wanting to make this town bigger. I think this is our chance. I think if we find the right bank to back it with our gold, we can really make this place grow. I think we can expand out into our aquatic limit, much like New York did so long ago."
"Oh. Oh, yeah, that would be ideal, yeah. I can see that now."
"Speak of this to your father, won't you? On the subject of New York, I'll need to make a trip out there to arrange this if it has his approval."
"Um. Sure. Yeah, I'll go do that. OK."
Cook left the saloon without taking his cigar with him. He proceeded to Daron's house with his head filled of visions of going to the states' capital and finding the men who made this judgment so that he could physically retaliate against them. He kept a stoic face while envisioning acts of torture upon those judges.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
19281122 03:08:29
19281122 03:08:29
JA-S-9600
Snap the carriage into place, line the pipe into the die, clamp the carriage jaws around the exposed pipe, press the button to drag the tube through the die, catch the tube once it's out of the die, let it drop to the bin, press the other button to send the carriage back. Repeat, repeat, repeat. The redundancy of the job never directly bothered William before; he understood that the job required him to do a single task repeatedly, and that it would provide little in the way of mental stimulation. But after having that Tuesday come and pass, and after resuming the work after this lunch break, the bleak present and future of an ordinary life with an ordinary job such as this hit his mind with a sudden impact. The distinct tinge of heated and pressed metal somehow was more pronounced, even over the cigarette smoke which he breathed in and out. The rhythm of the draw bench carriage sliding towards and away from him, and of the pipes straining through the die and falling to the receptacle, remained echoing in his ears with a more ponderous reverberation. The only way he managed to divert himself from these sensations was to contemplate the lunch break had just returned from, where he got to hear the same banter about children and wives by the other employees. The same banter by men who had been here for ten years, or twenty, or more. They were here, then they went home and drank, then they would see their wives and children sometime in between, and that was it - that was the totality of their existence. There was no aspiration of new heights to be found here. Is that just as well? All these men sought to do was provide a home and support for their family, and working here was their way to do it. Is there any realistic expectation for anything different?
William asked these questions to himself, as one more tube after another fell into the pile and gave a sonorous clang when they landed. Ping. Houses are sold for thousands, businesses earn thousands, the owner of the corporation ears thousands upon thousands, and he and his immediate coworkers endure this same task into the endless future for relative pennies. Ping. He had seen disparity, he had seen the social divide over wealth, and he tried to take matters into his own hands. Ping. When he did it, he felt like he was doing something which fulfilled his need to have an answer for these perceptions. Ping. Those other men on the floor, if they cared about any of this, they did nothing to change it. They essentially deserved their fates. Ping. What if he left, and took his family with him; would things be any different anywhere else? In America of all places? Not likely. Ping. Compared to this, he thought that he felt so much more alive when he did those raids. Ping. It would seem that he would be doing the bidding of a criminal - but it would still be him doing what he had just enjoyed doing the most already. They aren't anarchists, and they have a structure to their work, don't they? Ping.
The emptiness of the factory echoed stronger in his head. The carriage returned to his side and he reflexively reached out to grab it, but had no pipe ready to be drawn and instead simply stood there motionless. Finally, it became too much for him to bear.
William Humeski decided to make the call next Tuesday. He nodded and resumed working, knowing that he would be quitting tomorrow.
JA-S-9600
Snap the carriage into place, line the pipe into the die, clamp the carriage jaws around the exposed pipe, press the button to drag the tube through the die, catch the tube once it's out of the die, let it drop to the bin, press the other button to send the carriage back. Repeat, repeat, repeat. The redundancy of the job never directly bothered William before; he understood that the job required him to do a single task repeatedly, and that it would provide little in the way of mental stimulation. But after having that Tuesday come and pass, and after resuming the work after this lunch break, the bleak present and future of an ordinary life with an ordinary job such as this hit his mind with a sudden impact. The distinct tinge of heated and pressed metal somehow was more pronounced, even over the cigarette smoke which he breathed in and out. The rhythm of the draw bench carriage sliding towards and away from him, and of the pipes straining through the die and falling to the receptacle, remained echoing in his ears with a more ponderous reverberation. The only way he managed to divert himself from these sensations was to contemplate the lunch break had just returned from, where he got to hear the same banter about children and wives by the other employees. The same banter by men who had been here for ten years, or twenty, or more. They were here, then they went home and drank, then they would see their wives and children sometime in between, and that was it - that was the totality of their existence. There was no aspiration of new heights to be found here. Is that just as well? All these men sought to do was provide a home and support for their family, and working here was their way to do it. Is there any realistic expectation for anything different?
William asked these questions to himself, as one more tube after another fell into the pile and gave a sonorous clang when they landed. Ping. Houses are sold for thousands, businesses earn thousands, the owner of the corporation ears thousands upon thousands, and he and his immediate coworkers endure this same task into the endless future for relative pennies. Ping. He had seen disparity, he had seen the social divide over wealth, and he tried to take matters into his own hands. Ping. When he did it, he felt like he was doing something which fulfilled his need to have an answer for these perceptions. Ping. Those other men on the floor, if they cared about any of this, they did nothing to change it. They essentially deserved their fates. Ping. What if he left, and took his family with him; would things be any different anywhere else? In America of all places? Not likely. Ping. Compared to this, he thought that he felt so much more alive when he did those raids. Ping. It would seem that he would be doing the bidding of a criminal - but it would still be him doing what he had just enjoyed doing the most already. They aren't anarchists, and they have a structure to their work, don't they? Ping.
The emptiness of the factory echoed stronger in his head. The carriage returned to his side and he reflexively reached out to grab it, but had no pipe ready to be drawn and instead simply stood there motionless. Finally, it became too much for him to bear.
William Humeski decided to make the call next Tuesday. He nodded and resumed working, knowing that he would be quitting tomorrow.
Saturday, August 17, 2013
19281128 17:47:09
19281128 17:47:09
AD-S-1640
The door buzzed open between the second and third time that Pulaski knocked upon the fogged glass set within the door frame. The otherwise darkened hallway beyond the door was illuminated by the light which came from the room at his right. He entered the room and was glad to see his his host standing and waiting for him, though the large smile on his face was unexpected.
"Good evening, sir." Pulaski offered his hand to shake.
"Yes, yes, glad you're here." Torrence actually had an air of giddiness in his voice. Pulaski saw this mood in him so infrequently that he was starting to become a bit concerned for the topic at hand. He took to the empty chair in front of the desk as Torrence returned to his seat at the opposite side.
"So if I didn't know any better, I'd think that you just got done rolling up with a pair of sisters. What's the news?"
"The news is that he called and that he accepted to join us. We got a new man in our ranks. And this guy, I think he'll have a bright future with us. And I think you're one of the best guys I got to show him the ropes and things that we do."
"Huh, really? OK. But now you're talkin like he isn't going to be one of my boys - so he'll be one of yours then?"
"Yep yep. This guy... he's somethin else. He's, well. Like how some folk would call someone a loose cannon - well this guy is a Goddamned loose company. But that's just his ways, see, behind that he's a honest soldier of the Lord. A white knight like a saint, you'll think. You'll see soon enough."
"Wait, you're serious?" Pulaski nearly snarled his teeth when he asked this in a sneer. "This guy you got is some sort of lunatic Christian Soldier of the Church or some shit? And you want me to be his teacher? Me? Is there a gas leak in here?"
"Ha ha, yes I mean it, yes I want you to help him settle in. See, you're closer to his age and you get along with basically everyone when you feel like it. Like you said before, you got that easy air to you. And you right about that. Most of the other folk, I'm not ... I think there's more of a chance that anyone else might rub him the wrong way. And you don't want to rub this guy the wrong way." Torrence dropped the smile on his face when he stated the last sentence.
"Yeah you say that and mention that he's some holy roller shithead. How the fuck am I supposed to make my normal rounds with a guy like that in tow? That ain't gonna work."
"Let some of your men like Kolmar take duties for a bit. And you right though, yes, there are some areas this guy don't need to be. Basically any of the hen houses, for starters. You'll mainly be doin things to have him be seen with you and going to do things like collecting on wheels and such. He won't need no exposure to the fun stuff until I tell him to go."
"Swell. Just what I need. I hope you're right about this, boss. You sure he's gonna be worth it?"
"Look. I've seen what this guy can do when he's against me. If he can do the same for me, we're gonna ... we won't have so many repeat offenders. Believe it. This guy is a terror, and he straight up believes that the will of the Lord Almighty burns within him. And hey, if that's his fuel, if that's what gets him to make the results that I've seen, then he can call himself the thirteenth fucking apostle for all I care."
"Hah, fair enough there. I still can't say I feel so lucky being the guy chosen for doing this, though. Oh well, I'll live, I guess." Pulaski sighed in resignation after saying this. "So what's this guy's name, then?"
"William. And no, not Bill. William."
AD-S-1640
The door buzzed open between the second and third time that Pulaski knocked upon the fogged glass set within the door frame. The otherwise darkened hallway beyond the door was illuminated by the light which came from the room at his right. He entered the room and was glad to see his his host standing and waiting for him, though the large smile on his face was unexpected.
"Good evening, sir." Pulaski offered his hand to shake.
"Yes, yes, glad you're here." Torrence actually had an air of giddiness in his voice. Pulaski saw this mood in him so infrequently that he was starting to become a bit concerned for the topic at hand. He took to the empty chair in front of the desk as Torrence returned to his seat at the opposite side.
"So if I didn't know any better, I'd think that you just got done rolling up with a pair of sisters. What's the news?"
"The news is that he called and that he accepted to join us. We got a new man in our ranks. And this guy, I think he'll have a bright future with us. And I think you're one of the best guys I got to show him the ropes and things that we do."
"Huh, really? OK. But now you're talkin like he isn't going to be one of my boys - so he'll be one of yours then?"
"Yep yep. This guy... he's somethin else. He's, well. Like how some folk would call someone a loose cannon - well this guy is a Goddamned loose company. But that's just his ways, see, behind that he's a honest soldier of the Lord. A white knight like a saint, you'll think. You'll see soon enough."
"Wait, you're serious?" Pulaski nearly snarled his teeth when he asked this in a sneer. "This guy you got is some sort of lunatic Christian Soldier of the Church or some shit? And you want me to be his teacher? Me? Is there a gas leak in here?"
"Ha ha, yes I mean it, yes I want you to help him settle in. See, you're closer to his age and you get along with basically everyone when you feel like it. Like you said before, you got that easy air to you. And you right about that. Most of the other folk, I'm not ... I think there's more of a chance that anyone else might rub him the wrong way. And you don't want to rub this guy the wrong way." Torrence dropped the smile on his face when he stated the last sentence.
"Yeah you say that and mention that he's some holy roller shithead. How the fuck am I supposed to make my normal rounds with a guy like that in tow? That ain't gonna work."
"Let some of your men like Kolmar take duties for a bit. And you right though, yes, there are some areas this guy don't need to be. Basically any of the hen houses, for starters. You'll mainly be doin things to have him be seen with you and going to do things like collecting on wheels and such. He won't need no exposure to the fun stuff until I tell him to go."
"Swell. Just what I need. I hope you're right about this, boss. You sure he's gonna be worth it?"
"Look. I've seen what this guy can do when he's against me. If he can do the same for me, we're gonna ... we won't have so many repeat offenders. Believe it. This guy is a terror, and he straight up believes that the will of the Lord Almighty burns within him. And hey, if that's his fuel, if that's what gets him to make the results that I've seen, then he can call himself the thirteenth fucking apostle for all I care."
"Hah, fair enough there. I still can't say I feel so lucky being the guy chosen for doing this, though. Oh well, I'll live, I guess." Pulaski sighed in resignation after saying this. "So what's this guy's name, then?"
"William. And no, not Bill. William."
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